


The Hospital

by somebodywakeuphicks



Series: Joyce and Hopper Need Each Other-One Shots [11]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I have a very big soft spot for Hopper/Sara flashbacks, I promise Joyce doesn't die like in my other one, Joyce and Hopper are meant to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 14:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14083227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebodywakeuphicks/pseuds/somebodywakeuphicks
Summary: This story starts with a flashback and ends with Joyce in the hospital. Hopper struggles.





	The Hospital

**Author's Note:**

> This is the eleventh work in a sequence of Jopper one shots.
> 
> All stories in this series will have different ratings, so please be aware of that. They may involve different characters and POV, but they are all centered on Hopper and Joyce's relationship in some way.

**Summer 1979**

_Jim Hopper_

 

“Daddy, will you read to me?”

“Huh?” Hopper asked, blood-shot eyes rising to meet his daughter’s. “Yes—yeah, of course, honey. What would you like me to read?”

“The dolphin book,” Sara said.

“Dolphins, huh? I thought for sure it would be the space book.”

“Not today. Today, it’s dolphins.”

Hopper stood, shuffling through the pile of books on the bedside table until he got to one with a mother dolphin and its baby on the front cover. “Found it. Scootch over, kid.” He climbed into the hospital bed next to his daughter. She shifted, then snuggled up close against him as he began reading. “You might think that dolphins are fish, but they are actually mammals, just like humans.” 

Sara breathed out a sigh as he read. Before the diagnosis, she would have been talking a mile a minute, asking questions and making observations. For all she’d gone through, she’d been in fairly good spirits, but Hopper could tell she was tired. Who wouldn’t be? The doctors. The tests. The probing. The chemo. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 

“Are you okay, Daddy?”

“You’ve been through the ringer, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” Hopper chuckled. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a little tired, is all.” He rubbed her bald head, kissing it. 

“How about I read to you then?”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” he said, handing the book over.

Sara struggled through most of the words, and truth be told, telling her every other word was more exhausting than simply reading the book. Sara thought she was helping, though, and that’s what counted. He beamed with pride at every word she read correctly. Most five-year-olds couldn’t read, right? He didn’t think he could read at that age. How did she get to be so smart?

Sara stopped, closing the book and placing it on her lap.

“What’s wrong?” Hopper asked.

“I’m tired, Daddy. The room feels wobbly.”

“You feel dizzy?”

“Yeah.”

“Here,” he said, handing Sara a cup of water with a straw. “Take a drink, then close your eyes and take a nap.”

“But I just took a nap.”

“I know, but maybe it’ll help.”

Sara paused. “Will you stay with me?”

Hopper lifted his head off the back of the raised bed, grasping her hand. “Of course, honey. I would never leave you.”

“You do when Mama gets here.”

He swallowed hard. “That’s different. I have to go to work so we can pay the bills. Believe me, if I could, I wouldn’t ever leave this room.” He turned away from Sara, leaning off the bed and rustling through one of the many bags left on the floor. “I just remembered, I brought something for you. But it’s powerful and mighty. Do you think you can handle it?”

Sara nodded at him, wide-eyed.

Hopper pulled his arm up slowly, revealing the face, then the body of a stuffed tiger. 

Sara’s nose crinkled as her face lit up. 

He held the tiger up to his ear, nodding, as if listening. “Uh huh. Okay.” He turned to his daughter. “He says he’s a magic tiger. Stronger than all these bad feelings. Stronger than the yucky drugs. Stronger than the sick in your body. He tells me that you’re a brave little girl and that he wants to be brave with you. When you’re together, even if Mama and Daddy can’t be with you, he’ll help keep you strong. How does that sound?”

A smile appeared on Sara’s lips as she nodded, reaching out for the animal. 

“I love you, honey. You’re the bravest, smartest, kindest, most wonderful girl I know. We’ll get through this. We’re gonna fix you.”

Sara just gazed up at her Daddy, then closed her eyes, hugging the tiger under her arm, snug and safe in Hopper’s side. Soon, he heard a faint snore, and only then did he let a few tears fall from his eyes and roll down his cheeks. 

 

**Winter 1986**

_Joyce Byers_

 

Joyce coughed until her sides ached. Needle-like pain pricked her raw throat, and she swore she tasted blood. _Damn it_ , she thought. She hated being trapped in a hospital room. Didn’t the doctors know she had things to do? Hopper, Will, and El meant well, but she was fine. Really. She tried thinking of all the ways she could convince the doctor she wasn’t really as sick as she looked and sounded, but Hopper would arrive in an hour after picking the kids up from school, so she probably didn’t have time for that.

A doctor passed by the room. Joyce tried to call to him, but what came out sounded more like a dying squirrel than anything else. She pressed her buzzer. A minute later, a nurse came in to see her. “Yes, Ms. Byers?”

“I— _cough_ —I am _—cough cough_ —fine. I—”

The nurse cut her off. “Ms. Byers, you’re not well enough to go home. If you just relax and let us care for you, you’ll be out of here in a few days.”

 _A few days?_ Joyce huffed, falling back onto her pillow.

About three hours later, Hopper stepped into the doorway, pausing and shifting his feet. 

“Hop,” Joyce squeaked out. “What’re you doing?”

“N-nothing,” Hopper said, shrugging it off. He proceeded into the room and stood awkwardly next to Joyce’s bed.

“Are you going to sit down or what?” Geez, she sounded bad. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk,” Hopper said, taking a seat. “Sorry I’m late. I dropped Will and El off at the Wheelers’, and I stopped for some dinner. The kids’re going to stay the night there, and I’m gonna sleep here.”

“Hop! I’m fine—”

“You really shouldn’t exert yourself.” He pursed his lips, looking paler than usual. 

Of course, her lungs chose to give out on her in that moment, throwing her into a fit of coughs she couldn’t stop. They didn’t let up as Joyce gasped for air. Hopper jumped from his chair, rushing to her side and placing a hand on her back. Her heart raced as her chest rose and fell with each short wheeze. 

“I’m gonna get the nurse.” 

Hopper rushed out the door before Joyce could stop him, lifting up the control attached to her bed.

When Hopper returned, a nurse trailing behind him, he was in the middle of explaining what had just happened.

“That’s fairly normal with pneumonia,” the nurse said. “If she stops breathing or becomes unresponsive, that’s when you should worry. In the meantime, relax, and we’ll be in and out to check on her.” She smiled as she left the room.

“If she stops breathing or becomes unresponsive…” Hopper mumbled. 

Joyce needed to find a better way to communicate. She sat up, glancing around the room. 

“What’re you doing?”

“Paper,” Joyce rasped. 

Hopper dug through a few drawers before coming across a pad of paper and a pen. As he held it out to Joyce, she grabbed it and began writing. 

 _I don’t want to be here_ , it read. 

“I know, sweetheart, but you heard what the doctor said. It’s a good thing we brought you in, because pneumonia can…” He trailed off. 

_What’s the matter?_

“Nothing.”

_I know something’s the matter._

“I…just don’t like seeing you this way.”

Joyce stopped, taking Hopper’s face in. And then it hit her. _Stupid_ , she thought. Here she was, so concerned about herself and getting out of this place, and she didn’t even stop to think about how he might feel. _Come here,_ she wrote on her paper. 

He stood, taking Joyce’s hand. 

_No, come here._

“I don’t know what you mean, Joyce.”

 _Get into bed with me._  

Hopper grunted. “I don’t think I’ll fit, and besides, isn’t that nurse supposed to be checking on you?”

Joyce rolled her eyes before scratching out another note. _Who cares? Besides, it’s after 7, and they don’t check as much._ She scooted over as far as the bed would allow and patted the spot next to her. 

Hopper shook his head, grinning. “Okay, okay.” He climbed into the bed meant for one person, nearly falling backward as he did so. 

Joyce laughed, setting off another series of coughs. Hopper’s eyes widened, scanning Joyce’s face for assurance that she was okay. Taking her hand, he threaded his fingers through hers as her coughing subsided. “Sorry,” she squeaked. “I really don’t want to get you sick.”

“It’s okay. Viral pneumonia isn’t contagious, anyway.”

“Look at you, Mr. Smarty Pants.”

“Shhh.” Hopper pressed his finger to his lips. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” As Joyce rolled over, Hopper melted around her back, resting one arm gently on top of hers and rubbing his thumb along her hand. 

Joyce woke a little while later. She didn’t know how long she’d been sleeping, only that her muscles ached so badly, far worse than they had before. In an attempt to pull the blanket up over her body, she woke Hopper.

“You’re shivering,” he said, groggy from sleep. He brushed some hair away from her neck and pressed his lips to her skin. “Oh my god, Joyce, you’re burning up.”

Joyce didn’t answer. 

“Joyce?”

She thought she heard Hopper’s voice, but at that point, she honestly couldn’t tell. Suddenly, she found two nurses hovering over her body, one declaring, “105.” What did that mean? A needle pricked her inner elbow, but she didn’t even flinch. The room faded in and out as Joyce closed her eyes.

The sun’s rays streamed through the window when she woke once more. Lifting her head up, she spied Hopper, awake but staring into space as he sat in a chair next to the bed. “Hey,” she squeaked, and his eyes darted to hers, focusing. He hid it well, but Joyce read his emotions, understanding him intimately. 

“You’re up.” It’s all he said. 

Joyce nodded, holding her hand out toward him. He grasped it, and the two sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Joyce pulled away, motioning for the notebook on the table. After Hopper handed it to her, she jotted down a note, holding it up. _What happened last night?_

“You don’t remember?”

Joyce shook her head.

“You woke up around midnight shaking and hotter than I’ve ever felt a person. The nurses came in and your temp was 105.7, so they gave you a shot or something to bring the fever down and some meds through the IV to help you sleep.”

_Did you sleep?_

Hopper chafed. “Of course not. I’ve been awake since.”

 _I can tell you're upset,_ Joyce wrote.

He stared at her for a few seconds. “Are you kidding me? How can I _not_ be upset, Joyce? I—I just—fuck.” He leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. 

“It’s Sara, isn’t it?” Joyce managed to get out. 

When he looked back up at her, his eyes said it all. She motioned for him to come closer, and he did, sitting on the bed. “I don’t want this to be about me and my issues. You’re the one who’s sick.”

 _It’s all related, Hop_ , Joyce wrote. _And I wouldn’t call it issues. You lost a daughter. I’m sure being here drudges up all sorts of memories._

Hopper grunted, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.”

_I really, truly don’t mind if you go home. You don’t have to stay here. After last night, I know I need to be here, but I’m a big girl. I’m not going to be upset if I have to do it alone._

He furrowed his brow, taking Joyce’s hand. “Joyce, I’m not leaving. I hate—fucking hate—hospitals, especially in situations like this. But—I need to—I can’t leave—What if—” He gave up. 

Joyce took her hand back, scribbling on her pad once more. _You’re worried something will happen, and—_

“I couldn’t live with myself if it did.” His eyes focused over her head at the wall. 

Hopper’s instinct to protect weighed heavily on him. Joyce knew that, aware of it for as long as she’d known him. But he couldn’t protect Sara. He tried everything in his power to, but in the end, he couldn’t. And it about killed him. Then she remembered—“Oh, Hop. Your mom,” she rasped. 

“Yeah.”

Back in their early twenties, before Hopper had left for Vietnam, his mom came down with the flu and developed complications. Complications that took her life. She imagined Hopper in the hospital, holding his mother’s hand, much like he did with her now. Then holding little Sara’s hand. _Life isn’t fair_ , she concluded. 

Just then, the nurse walked in, carrying a clipboard. “Good news,” she said. “After the stunt your body pulled last night, the tests we took early this morning actually look better than the ones we did yesterday. If you continue to improve, I think it’s safe to say you’ll be going home sooner rather than later.”

Joyce smiled at Hopper, and he mirrored her, lips unsteady. “Thank you so much,” she told the nurse. “See baby?” she said, running her hand along Hopper’s bearded cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” 

He pulled her to his chest, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head as she rested it against him. 


End file.
